Nori
by Ava Chanel
Summary: Of which the captain is curious, and the companion practices her trade. Mal/Inara, post-BDM. Rated M for smut.


**A/N: **_Smut, because everyone likes smut. :)_

**Nori**

_"either way he wanted her and this was bad  
wanted to do things to her it was making him crazy  
now a little crush turned into a like  
and now he wants to grab her by the hair and tell her..."_

-Tear You Apart, She Wants Revenge

**Summary: **_Of which the captain is curious, and the companion practices her trade. _

She answered her shuttle door rather quickly, as if she had been expecting him.

Of course she had been expecting him; this time, she'd actually been the one to invite him.

He took in her tousled, inky black curls that framed her heart shaped face, accentuating her exotic, dark, almond shaped eyes, and her sun-kissed skin. Every time he saw her, it was like having his breath knocked out of him. Even now, even without the makeup and the glamour, the companion could leave him speechless. She had a fancy silk robe on, tied at her slim waist, the soft mounds of her breasts moving beneath the delicate fabric. The robe hit just a little below her thighs, exposing most of her long and lean legs, taunting him.

She stood aside, smiled. Remembering how to breathe, Mal stepped into her shuttle, and tried to think about things that weren't Inara's legs.

"Said somethin' about wantin' to see me?" He asked, breaking the silence.

He dug his hands into his pockets, unsure of what else to do with them. Inara's gaze met the carpeted floor of her shuttle, and she shyly tucked a thick curl behind her ear. She closed her shuttle door with her back, and met the captain's curious gaze.

"I did," she nodded in agreement.

He looked about her shuttle expectantly. Then back at her.

Still smiling, she said, "The crew...couldn't help but notice how tense you seem to be these days, Mal."

He quirked up an eyebrow, curious.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questioned.

She stood up straight, and walked towards the table where she kept all her teas and fancy china. As she bent forward, she allowed him to feast his eyes on the dangerously short hem of her robe. He sighed, and suddenly found interest in the ceiling, instead.

"It means," she started, after blowing out a candle, "you've been taking all your insecurities and stresses out on the poor folk who work for you."

Anger was quick to flash across his features. "That so? Well, is there a specific reason ain't none of these poor folk had enough nerve to be tellin' me this themselves?" He questioned, unable to mask the agitation in his voice.

Inara met his gaze with a tender smile, and she shook her head, long black tresses dancing with her. "It was more like, they reached a unanimous decision of developing an intervention."

Another candle was blown out.

Mal let out a chortle, and said, "An intervention? I don't need no intervenin'. What I need is a more hard workin' crew that doesn't slack off every so oft. And, what the hell does this have to do with you?"

"Mal, I'm not the enemy here," Inara reassured him, calmly.

He ran a hand through his hair, nervously. She took a few steps towards him, a candle in her hand, the orange flame illuminating her exotic features and high cheekbones.

"So then, what exactly is your role in all this? Gonna talk me into bein' a nicer man, 'Nara?" He jibed, trying not to focus on the fact that she was so close.

She stared up into his eyes, biting on her lower lip for a moment as she contemplated her answer.

"I'm here to help," was what she settled on.

She then moved the candle to the other side of her shuttle, settling it down on the ground to where a few more were placed, littering the area like it was some sort of shrine. There was what looked to be a mat on the carpeted floor in the centre of all the candles, big enough to fit a single person. After she placed the last candle onto the floor, Inara then picked up a strange ceramic jar, and dipped a single finger inside of it. She stirred the contents, not placing it back until she was satisfied with her work. Whatever it was she'd picked up with her finger, she rubbed onto the bare skin of her arm. Mal watched her, inquisitive, but seemingly not wanting to speak, afraid he'd be breaking whatever ritual she was in the midst of.

Only when she stood up, and looked back at Mal, did the captain find his voice, "What was that?"

In response, Inara glanced down at her arm, and then back at Mal, shrugging.

"You know of the healing properties of _nori_, right Mal?" She asked, nonchalantly.

"Seaweed? That stuff was seaweed?" He probed, bewildered.

Inara nodded, "Gel. Nuru massage gel, to be exact. Now, take off all of your clothes."

Often times, it would be an exaggeration to say that any one person's jaw was capable of dropping. In that instant, Mal's jaw had dropped. His first thoughts were of Saffron, gun cocked and telling him to strip. That had ended with him butt naked in a desert. Mal sputtered for words, desperately trying to express his confusion and disapproval.

Inara rolled her eyes and threatened, "Mal, if you make a fuss, so help me, I'll find a way to get the clothes off of you myself, and you don't want me doing that, now do you? So make this easier on the both of us; off."

With wide eyes, Mal cried, "What in the seven hells do I have to get naked for, woman?! The heck are you schemin'?!"

Inara inched towards Mal, still looking as serious as ever.

"I'm not scheming anything," she explained, "I'm only going to give you a massage. Besides, it isn't as if I haven't seen it all before, Mal."

After a momentary pause, allowing the tension to dissipate and understanding to sink in, Mal let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"I thought you didn't service crew," He said.

A flash of anger in her dark eyes, but just like that, it was gone. Always composed, ever cool, the companion.

"I'm not servicing _anyone_. I'm offering to help my friends, to make living on this ship bearable. Don't you see, Mal? This is all for your benefit, as much as it is for theirs. Now, strip, and lie down on the mat," Inara concluded before going back to shuffling about her shuttle.

"There's no way I'm gettin' out of this one, am I?" He asked, defeated.

He'd never admit it, but the idea of receiving a massage at the hands of the lovely companion was something he'd only ever dreamed of.

Inara shook her head in response, "No, there really isn't." And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

She had her back to him, and Mal figured it was her giving him the opportunity to undress. Hesitantly, he started to work on the buttons of his dress shirt.

"What sort of massage is this, anyways?" He asked, trying to take his mind off of the fact that in moments, he'd be in his birthday suit, and at the mercy of the most beautiful woman he'd ever met.

"Like I said," Inara started, still digging through one of her many chests, "it's called a Nuru massage. It gets its name from the special gel that's used, made from nori. It's very slippery, and there's a certain...art about its administration. Ultimately, it relieves built up tension and relaxes the muscles," Inara explained.

Mal untucked his shirt, and slipped his suspenders over his shoulders so that they hung loosely at his sides. He pulled his arms out through the sleeves, and his skin was met with the cool air of the shuttle.

"Right. So, uh, is this the sorta thing you do for your clients?" He probed carefully, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

He heard her sigh before she replied with: "Sometimes, yes."

He put his shirt aside neatly, and reluctantly started on his belt and trousers.

"What's so special about this massage, anyways? What makes it an 'art'?" Mal quoted her, still watching her slender back and listening to the tinkling of her bracelets.

"Well, when you're finished getting undressed, I suppose you'll find out all about that," Inara answered, sounding a touch annoyed by all his questions.

He sighed, but figured it wise not to respond to her snark.

Once Mal was in nothing but his underwear, he headed over to the mat and lay down on his stomach, suddenly self conscious of his exposure. There were a lot of new scars on him, now. Many of them had barely healed. The events of Miranda had not been kind to him. Once he was settled in, Inara turned to face him, a towel in her hand, and some other utensils. He eyed them, curiously.

"What's all that for?" He asked from where he lay.

"The towel is for you. The bowl is for the gel. Relax, Mal. You can trust me," Inara explained, wearing an honest expression as she walked on over to him.

She got on her knees next to him, and placed the neatly folded towel underneath Mal's chin and arms, so that he was resting on it. Once he was comfortable, she disappeared from his line of vision, but he could still hear her moving against the mat behind him. And then, her cool fingers grabbed at the hem of his underwear, and Mal jolted.

"Woah! What're you doin'?!" He cried in protest, grabbing a hold of her hand, and stopping her.

"Mal," Inara started, sounding exasperated, "Would you just trust me?" She pleaded.

They spent a moment just staring at each other, with Mall still gripping her delicate wrist.

Hesitantly, he let go of her hand, and resumed his position on the towel, granting her permission to continue. He would trust her.

Her hands went back to working the hem of his underwear, slipping them over his butt, and down his legs, where she tugged them off.

"The gel will be cool when I pour it on you," Inara explained.

He winced when he felt it, ice cold and wet against his flushed skin. She'd poured a lot of it onto him, mainly onto his back. She drizzled the odourless liquid over his broad shoulders, and down his spine. He felt her shift so that her legs rubbed against his. Then, he saw her hands land on the mat on either side of him, and she leaned forward, a stray ebony curl tickling his cheek.

She breathed into his ear, warm and sweet, "Just relax."

And then her body was on top of his, naked skin on skin, and it was all Mal could do to keep his composure. He tensed up, ready to spring into action at the sudden contact, but too afraid to break her trust. She'd asked him to trust her. However, the companion was not oblivious to his shift in attitude.

"You're tensing up. Relax," she whispered against his ear.

Mal was speechless, unsure of what to say, or even of where to begin. All he could focus on was that they were both naked. And touching. And that it was highly inappropriate, considering their relationship. His mind became one of a young, adolescent boy's. Yet, for the life of him, he couldn't bring himself to argue. Maybe that was because he was so naked, and at Inara's mercy.

Her hands were on his body now, rubbing the gel all over him. Over the curves of his muscles, the hardness of his shoulders, and the lengths of his arms. They were soft and delicate as they worked. Her lithe body slipped against his, and he was painfully aware of the tips of her breasts brushing against his back while she moved. Her thighs kissed his, shifting with her. In his mind, he was battling with the vision of her naked, on top of him, of her golden skin gleaming in the soft candle light. Of her covered in the same liquid she was coating him in. It was extremely slippery, causing her body to slide against his in the most torturous way.

But Mal would have been a liar if he said it didn't feel...amazing.

Her body slid down the length of his, her breasts pushing against his butt when she moved lower. The gel ignited his senses, so that his skin tingled where her warmth touched. Mal couldn't help the groan that escaped his throat as her hands massaged his sides, his narrow hips, his legs. Then, she moved so that her back was on his. She'd shifted so that her legs were in between his, as she rubbed him down with her body. The gel was coating all of her skin, shining in the dim lighting. She lifted her butt up and rubbed the entire length of her body down his whole back. Another muffled groan from Mal. He could feel the beginning of his erection.

Inara's body slipped down, down, down, past his backside, her hands marking a trail along the inside of his thighs. Her painted nails raked a path on the sensitive skin, and Mal hissed in pleasure. And then her hands were at his feet, rubbing and massaging the gel around his toes and heels. Her strong and long legs worked the muscles of his shoulders and back, rubbing in circular motions with the help of the slimy gel. Mal could have sworn he had heard Inara moan softly, but wasn't sure if it was just his overactive imagination. He couldn't seem to think straight, what with the knowledge that the woman he wanted most was in all her naked glory, and all over him.

He could feel the tension slip away from his body, could feel every muscle loosening, relaxing with every movement of her swift and gentle hands. They kneaded the skin of his legs, the bracelets on her wrists noisily moving with her. Her legs were now resting on either side of his hips, her core hot against the skin of his buttocks. Like a cat, she stretched, and he could only imagine the sight.

More than anything, he wanted to be bold, wanted to take a hold of this woman, and love her real good and proper, like he should. Like she deserved to be. But this was Inara Serra, and he could never tell when he was dealing with the companion, and when it was he was dealing with the woman behind the mask. He couldn't bear to face the rejection, if he tried.

"Turn over, Mal," her voice was low, husky.

She had moved so that she was no longer on top of him, and he found himself missing her warmth. For a moment, he was still, not understanding her intentions. If he turned, he'd see her body, naked and glistening. She'd also see him, and would note his engorged manhood. He wasn't entirely sure he could deal with that. Not unless they were to engage in a form of sexual activity, that is.

"If you're worried about an erection, you shouldn't. It's perfectly normal during a massage like this one. Now, turn over, Mal," Inara addressed his concerns calmly.

Slowly, he turned over, so that his back was on the mat. He took in a deep breath, and tried his best not to make eye contact with her. From the corner of his eye, he could see the glint of that golden skin, gleaming in the light. She cupped more of the gel in her hands, and started pouring it over his chest and his stomach. He winced again at the coldness of it. She bent over, and her hands started to rub the liquid into his skin. He noticed that she'd skillfully tied up all of her thick black curls, but some had still escaped the bun. She straddled him then, his stiff cock rubbing against her warm cunt.

Mal gulped, and focused on watching her work. She rubbed over his scars, over his collarbone, his shoulders, to his neck. It felt incredible. Her breasts moved with her efforts, her simple necklace, too. When he looked at her face, he noted that she too, would not make eye contact with him. He caught her biting her lower lip as her hands pressed against his hard chest, over the curves of his torso. They trailed down the muscles of his stomach, coating every inch of his skin with the slippery gel. She then took the remainder of the stuff, and rubbed it over herself. Sitting up, she granted him a full view of her body; her firm breasts, her pert nipples, erect in the cool air, her flat and lean stomach, and the thick curves of her hips, where she was straddling him.

Mal's cock throbbed in response to the sight of her rubbing the gel onto her breasts and neck. His gaze followed her fingers, unable to pull away. Then, she leaned forward with her hands first, but her body was quick to follow. He could smell her; the sweet scent of vanilla and honeysuckle. Her breasts pressed against his chest, her head settling into the crook of his neck, her stomach stuck to his. Her hair tickled his chin.

He wanted to touch her, needed to touch her. His hands twitched at his sides, and he fought the urge, unsure of how she'd respond, scared he'd ruin it all.

She rubbed his manhood with her belly when she slid up his body, and he moaned as a result. Her hands continued to work the muscles of his chest, shoulders, arms. He was covered in the slippery gel, so much so that where her skin touched his, it would make a kissing sound from the friction. It clung to them, sticking even as they pulled apart.

Her palm danced against the ripples of his torso, down, following the trail of small, blonde hairs below his navel. He hissed when she took him in her hand, pumping him in a steady rhythm, until his shaft was also coated in the gel. Inara licked her lips when his body responded to her touch. She pressed his length against his stomach, rubbing up it slowly, teasing. Mal's breathing escalated, and he grunted.

Before he could stop himself, his hands were on her silken arms, touching and pinching softly. If it bothered her at all, Inara did not let him know of it. She rubbed him down, so that her breasts squeezed his erection between them, engulfing him. The feeling of the gel once it was warmed with their body heat, enhanced the experience all the more. Mal threw his head back against the mat at the incredible sensation.

Inara then climbed off of Mal's body, much to his dissatisfaction, and sat opposite him so that she was facing him. She then leaned back, and worked her feet over his strong thighs, pressing into his flesh with her toes and her heels. His chest heaved from the efforts of his breathing as it escalated. Her perfectly polished toenails pushed against the sensitive part of his inner legs. They then skimmed carefully over his erect cock, brushing past the tip.

He breathed her name; "Inara..."

She used the inside of her foot to cup him, and rubbed. He groaned. The candles surrounding them flickered, the wax melting, dripping. But Inara paid them no mind, too focused on the task at hand. She was careful in how much pressure she applied, using just enough strength to illicit a low groan from her captain. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. When she was satisfied with her work, she returned to slipping up his body, her breasts pressing firmly onto him. Her hands massaged a path down his nipples, to the sensitive sides of his ribcage. He found himself looking into her eyes, face flushed and eyes lusting. His breathing was still quick and shallow, but his fingers were no longer shy.

He cupped her bare bottom, and squeezed her flesh. Inara let out a sharp gasp, surprised at his forwardness. He then traveled up the length of the small of her back, lingering where her body dipped and arched. She closed her eyes, revelling in the feel of his hands on her. They were much rougher than any of her clients'. Calloused and desperate in their exploration of her skin. He applied firm pressure with the pads of his fingers wherever he touched. Inara caught herself licking her lips and staring at Mal's open mouth. He was also transfixed by her sensuous mouth.

She slid up his body until her face hovered over his, her nose brushing against his own. He held her against him, hands still exploring her back. She raked her nails against his forearms, brushing the soft hairs with the gel on her fingers. They travelled back up along the curves of his muscles, to his broad shoulders. She found herself staring into his eyes, now a dark shade of blue-black in the poorly lit shuttle. Her hands came back to his chest, resting just over his nipples.

They were so close, her lashes tickled his cheek, her open mouth was close enough for him to reach up and taste. It felt like forever before she'd garnered enough courage to kiss him. Perhaps she shouldn't have, perhaps the entire massage had been a bad idea. She should have known better than to trust herself around a naked and vulnerable Malcolm Reynolds.

She dipped her tongue into the recesses of his mouth instantly, taking advantage of his parted lips, and forgetting about all her repercussions. He squeezed her closer, tighter when she did. His mouth was hot, his tongue eager to meet hers. She purred against him, feeling her own tension slipping away as they finally made contact. It was as if all that pent up frustration, all the yelling, the arguing, the unspoken words, were fading away into the kiss. She hadn't realized that by treating him, she'd been treating herself. Sexual frustration was a common ailment for men like Mal, and Inara's intentions had been far from devious. However, it had not occurred to her that she, too, had been so sexually charged.

But it was there, in the hungry way her mouth attacked his, in the way her tongue warred with his, in how her fingers clutched at him desperately, as if she were going to lose him if she dared to let go. He must have felt it, too, because he held her tight against him, squeezing her so that she couldn't slip away or break the kiss. When they'd parted for air, he was still running his lips over hers, acknowledging that they'd been everything he'd imagined they'd be and more. He didn't want to stop, and neither did she.

It had been too long.

Far too long.

They'd held back so much, and now it was culminating into something that couldn't be stopped.

Inara was acutely aware of his hardened cock sitting against her cunt, and she rubbed him between her lips. He hissed against her mouth, and squeezed the flesh of her buttocks in response. She kissed his cheeks, his jaw, his chin, the rough stubble tickling her skin. She was enjoying the roughness of him, the untamed captain not being anything like her clients. He was both gentle and possessive as he ventured her body. He was a mystery, unknown to her. It was the first time she felt so unsure of what to do, how to act.

Intimacy was her job.

Malcolm Reynolds left her baffled and reeling.

She was so consumed with the emotion; she couldn't take control of the reigns this time. Not like she always did with her clients. It only further proved the point that the captain was not simply a man paying her for her services.

He cupped her chin, and brought her lips back to his, where he gently probed with his slick tongue. As she moved against him, she could feel her own body reacting to him in ways she never thought were truly possible. None of her clients had managed to make her feel this way.

She wanted him.

That was what made it so vastly different. She wanted him, and it had absolutely nothing to do with money changing hands.

He kissed her deeply, grunting as she slid up and down his shaft, coating him in her wetness. His hands moved under her butt, pinching her lightly, and helping her move against him at an even faster pace. She could feel the pleasure building up inside of her, excruciating and wonderful at the same time.

Not being able to take anymore, she moved so that they parted, and then snaked her hand down to his manhood, slipping him inside of her warm, wet folds. She let out a satisfied moan at the feeling of him filling her. He had taken the opportunity to raise his head, and engulf one of her breasts into his mouth. Her fingers found the soft, thick hair of his head as she started riding him, slowly. She rolled her hips in a steady rhythm, arched her back, and clutched at his hair, mussing it up in the process. His strong arms wrapped around her waist, helping her to meet his thrusts, while his tongue flicked the bud of her erect nipple in his mouth. She threw her head back, and moaned.

She took him deeper still, letting out a soft mewl when he grazed her nipple with his teeth. His hands moved to cup her full breasts, pressing them together, while he continued to tease her with his sweet mouth. She picked up her pace, feeling the urgency in the pleasure that was continuously building up inside of her. She rode him faster, and he groaned in response. She tugged at his hair when she could feel her orgasm draw nearer. He met her with urgent thrusts, eyes rolling back when her muscles tightened around his cock.

She pushed him back down then, her hands on his chest. He watched her writhing on top of him, long black curls freeing of their bun and sitting at her shoulders, tickling her breasts. She massaged him, starting from where her skin met his, and working her way towards his arms, the small golden hairs of his chest brushing against her palms. He was offered the lovely view of her thick curves gyrating slowly against him, of her cunt where she held him inside, of her breasts moving with her efforts. She whimpered and moaned on top of him, not stopping her motions. As her hands pressed against the hardness of his abdomen, it forced her breasts to squeeze against each other. Mal licked his dry lips, and his hands roamed the curves of her waist and hips, the pads of his thumbs pressing into her flesh.

She let go of him, and let her hips and the muscles of her lean legs do the rest of the work, moving on him now in a torturous circular motion. Her hands gripped her hair, moving it away from the sweat of her neck, and then they danced lower, touching her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, bejewelled fingers pulling and grabbing at the delicate mounds. Her eyes were still closed as she experienced him so deep inside of her.

Mal liked seeing how he affected her, liked seeing her enjoy him the way he wanted her to enjoy him. It was making him more aroused, knowing he could do this to her. His breathing was laboured, as was hers. She bit down on her bottom lip, and he noted how some of the array of little curls of hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat. Her skin glowed in the candle light, from the gel and from its natural golden sheen. His hands were on her back again, grabbing hard when she moved faster.

He groaned, and felt his release ready to spill inside of her. He cried out, his expression one of pain and pleasure when he shot his load into her. His knuckles paled where he held her. Her breathing hitched, and she rode him furiously in an effort to achieve her own orgasm. She moaned out his name and then experienced her own waves of pleasure. He twitched inside of her, while a series of soft mewls escaped her parted lips. Her fingers were still pushed up against his lean stomach when the orgasm began to subside. Inara collapsed onto his chest, her breathing laboured and her heart racing inside her chest. She could hear the thrum of his doing the same from where she lay against him.

He held her, then, wrapping his arms around her naked body, caressing her back, still coated in both the nuru gel and sweat. There was so much love in the way he touched her, held her close. She kissed his chest where her lips were closest, tenderly. She rubbed down the muscles of his arms and shoulders, perfectly content in not moving.

Neither would admit that they were also terrified of facing one another after such a heated exchange. Yet, they couldn't lie there all night. The candles were burning awfully low, and Inara didn't want her shuttle being set on fire.

She sat up after they'd both cooled down, their breathing calm. She was already missing the way he felt as he'd moved inside of her.

Without making any eye contact, she said, "You can take the shower first. You'll need to wash off the gel."

Her voice was huskier than she'd anticipated, still affected by the noises she'd been making previously. Mal followed her lead and was sitting up straight, uncomfortably aware of his nudity and what he'd just done. It had been quick, quicker than he'd have liked. He'd always imagined that he'd take his time with her, were he ever to make love to her. This time, the first time, had been sporadic, passionate. And not enough. Watching her clean up, tying all of her luscious black curls into a neat bun, still very much naked, he couldn't even believe that he'd actually had sex with her, a woman so incredible.

Before he could stop himself, he voiced his thoughts aloud, "You really are beautiful."

He imagined touching her bare arm, only to realize his fingers had brushed her, catching her attention. Dark eyes glittered from the candle light when she looked at him, taken aback.

Flattery was something the companion was used to. Mal cursed himself mentally, not believing she'd ever think he'd been sincere. Of all the things to have told her after they'd...

"Thank you," She smiled bashfully, choosing to stare at the floor instead of at him.

Had he just caused her to blush? He scratched the back of his head, looking for words to say that wouldn't make him come off as some buffoon. Instead, he grabbed the towel that had been under his head, and covered his naughty bits before the situation grew more awkward by the moment. Inara had filled up a bowl with water, and was using a cloth to dab away at the gel that still coated her skin. He moved so that he sat across from her. She watched him, surprised, unsure.

He motioned for the cloth, and he took it out of her weak grip when she'd remained puzzled by his request. He dipped it in the water, squeezed so that it dripped through his fingers. Then, he looked at her face, and dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, over her eyes, down her cheeks and nose.

"Mal..." she started, unsure of how to progress.

"This way, it won't ruin your eye makeup," He added, rubbing at her small chin.

She couldn't help the smile that played on her lips.

"That is sweet, but you really should go wash up, too," she instructed, grabbing hold of his wrist with delicate fingers.

He gulped, scared.

He didn't know what to do with her, didn't know how to approach the situation. Most women, he could handle. Inara was a different matter entirely. He always had to be careful, had to watch his step. He didn't want to say anything hurtful, or anything that could scare her off, like the last time. That had been far too difficult, watching her leave, letting her leave.

"Right. I should...go do that. Let you get back to whatever it was you were doin' before I interrupted," he spoke nervously.

She only smiled, sweetly and sincere.

He wanted her to know that he wasn't like her clients. That he wasn't done with her now just because he was spent. He wanted more, he always wanted more. And so, before Malcolm Reynolds truly thought of the consequences, he hesitantly leaned forward, closing the distance between them. He only hoped she'd meet him halfway, otherwise he'd truly have looked the fool. Initially, she'd moved back, startled by his sudden move. Then, slowly, she came to him, holding the cloth in her hands against her chest.

He kissed her then, and she let him.

-.-

"Reckon it worked? They've been in there for an awful long time. I can't feel my feet no more," the mechanic complained to the other younger girl.

Both girls were crouched outside of the shuttle, with River pressing her ear up against the door, listening intently. Her hands roamed the cool steel, as if to engage all of her senses into whatever it was she was searching for.

"It's done," she nodded.

Kaylee grinned excitedly.

"You think?! Did our little scheme work?" Kaylee asked, unable to contain her joy.

River nodded again, "I don't sense the tension. The burden is lifted. Both of them are...happy."

Kaylee clapped her hands, and River gave her a warning glance. Kaylee turtled up, realizing what the young reader had implied about the noise.

"Zoe, Simon, and Jayne will want to hear about this! No more pent up sexual tension, and a less cranky cap'n!" Kaylee whispered giddily.

"It isn't over just yet," River warned, causing Kaylee to freeze in her tracks.

River listened, her eyes darting about.

"He's still going to kill us for going behind his back. His words, not mine," River finished.

Kaylee's eyes widened.

"Figures. Can't win 'em all, I s'pose." The mechanic shrugged.

"Requesting permission to leave Mal's mind, now. I feel dirty, dirtier than when it was you and Simon. They did some weird foot thing, and all those bodily fluids mixing and that gel..." River shook her head in disgust, sticking out her tongue.

Kaylee peered at her, curious and chewing her lip, "What sort of foot thing we talkin' about exactly?"

She was met with a stare from River that told her she wasn't going to get any information out of her.

Kaylee grinned at the girl, and then threw an arm over her shoulders, saying, "You did alright, kid. You did alright. But you still gotta tell me more about what you heard in there. Might like to try it out myself sometime. I promise I won't make ya listen in to your brother's head, scout's honor!"

-.-

**A/N: **_Yet another smutty one-shot that took me weeks to write. Which is probably why it's so long. I feel as if I could probably tack on a few more chapters to this, make it a bit of a story since it plays on the awkwardness of Mal and Inara's relationship post sexual tension. Still, not quite sure I have enough material for that, though. It might just start sounding redundant. Anyways, feedback as always is welcomed, and thanks for reading! :)_


End file.
